Upon the Wall of Ba Sing Se
by ManofManyHats
Summary: In a tale of two Irohs, Iroh II decides that the knife that has been passed down to him is in the wrong hands.


_AN: Should this be in the Last Airbender category; I don't know. Maybe. Probably. All I know is that in LOK, both Iroh I and Iroh II are in the characters list, while in the ATLA, they are not. Does it really matter? No, not at all._

 _I've had this idea stuck in my head for so long, I can't believe I got it down on paper. Well, virtual paper. Happy reading!_

* * *

"General Iroh! We are well met today." The two generals, one in the crisp red of the United Forces and the other in the green and gold of the Earth Kingdom, grasped each other's hands in greeting.

"I'm sure you've heard it before, but you are a spitting image of your grandfather."

"I don't get tired of hearing it, General Sung. Tell me I have his temperament, though, and that's a whole different story."

The gray haired man tipped his head back in laughter. "The Firelord always was known for his temper. I noticed that it started getting better with age, though."

"Only in front of the officials, Sung. Now, how about we walk? I've always loved the view from here."

"Yes, the view from the wall is one of a kind. I'd even be bold enough to say the best there is."

"I'll have to disagree on that one. Ever been to the Western Air Temple?"

They start on their stroll and let the setting sun cast their shadows along the stone.

"No, but I hear it's quite a breath-taker. Hopefully I'll get my chance, maybe when I retire," the general unbuttons the cuff of his collar, "And hopefully that's soon. I've holed up in this suit for a few years too long."

His much less formally dressed companion laughs into his fist. "I said we would just be talking, you didn't need to wear it in the first place."

"The Queen doesn't like her generals frolicking along the Outer Wall, so I passed it off as an important diplomatic meeting. I had to dress the part."

"I wouldn't think you as that kind of person; lying to your charge."

"It wasn't a lie. We are two very, high ranking officers; anything we say could be counted as a diplomatic mission. You just learn to bend your words a little, make them a little easier for the other person to swallow. You'll appreciate it more when you're older. Now, why did you call me out here in the first place?"

"Enough time for that later. How about a cup of tea at the next station?"

"You know I'm not one to beat around the bush, but alright. Let's hope you can make tea as well as your namesake."

* * *

The sight of soaring boulders and fiery rain is what Iroh sees before him today. It is a sight to bring a man to his knees, but it has also been his view for the past give or take six-hundred days. The brush of flame and the rumble of earth underneath him is as familiar as his own son's face.

He steps before the crater, a monstrous cleave in the earth that marked where his forces had barraged the wall, day after day. They are close. Through fissures on the crumbling brickwork, he can see blue sky and golden marshes. Whatmore, the defenders atop the wall are more tense than ever.

"And, fire!" He hears a commander's voice behind him, and rounds of flame sail over his head, and somehow he knows, this will be the one.

"Stand down. We have done enough for today. Well done, soldiers." Iroh waits for the dust to settle just to be sure. He sees acres of green and gold fields rolling to the edge of a jut in the horizon. "We have breached the Outer Wall!"

The guards atop the wall hear the most dreadful sound they could imagine; their enemy's cheers. He, himself, does not feel overjoyed, nor truly proud, in fact, the only thing that was beyond a doubt to him was that Ba Sing Se was a beautiful sight.

"Someone's coming down!" The ranks solidify and the catapults are primed once more but he holds up a hand as calmly as he would to pause a weeping child.

"Stand down. That is enough for today." He repeats.

A soldier in green and brown stands atop the rubble, waving a white flag over a smoke filled sky.

* * *

"Right here below us, more than half a century ago, Iroh breached the Outer Wall."

The two generals sat at a hastily arranged table, overlooking the land away from the city. Sung traced his hand over the stone of a parapet, where a firmly carved 'X' was adorned.

"Indeed. It's not something we like to remember." The man answers. "But really, if someone _had_ to breach the city, I'm glad it was someone as honorable as your namesake."

"High praise." Iroh smiles over his cup of ginseng.

"Yes, well, as long as the Fire Nation doesn't try anything like that again. Now is that why you're here? Would be perfect if they sent you, it'd be like a repeat in history!"

"They do say history repeats itself, but I'm here to hopefully prove that wrong."

Sung's eyes twinkled. "And how do you plan to do that, sir? Is this what I've been called up for."

"By returning a gift, simply," Iroh produced from his side a short blade, sheathed in plain black and red. "My family's been holding on to that for a while now."

The old general studied the knife. "An old blade. Ceremonial. 'Never give up without a fight'. Quite an antique."

Iroh stared over the wall, down at the desert that spread quietly toward the horizon. It was a peaceful sight, but the 'X' on the stone besides them reminded him that it had not been so in the past. No, not for six hundred days.

He turned back to Sung. "Yes… it has quite a long history."

* * *

"We… surrender the Outer Wall to you, General Iroh." The Earth Kingdom general conceded. They sat in the grand war tent, weapons left outside, with documents strewn across his desk and a pot of tea breathing the scent of jasmine in the air.

He offered his defeated counterpart a cup. He continued, "You are an honorable man, Iroh. If only… our nations weren't so…" The man sighed, his words lost and his spirit too tired to find them.

"No need to wallow in our circumstances. Have some tea, we have both fought hard."

They sit in silence, trying not to think of casualties and war crimes and the days ahead. _This is your duty,_ Iroh reminds himself, _your destiny, your fate. As bound to you as the head on your shoulders._ _This will be your legacy._

"I wish to offer you this gift." The Earth general stiffened his shoulders and cut through the silence. He brought from his side a short black sheath and left it to lie on the table. "I pray the spirits halt you in your path, Iroh, and guide you to another, less bitter."

For a second, he wants nothing more than to refuse the gift and take the prayer to heart, but he cannot help but do the opposite.

"Thank you, General." Iroh studied the white blade, where an inscription read 'Never give up without a fight'. He wondered if he would be in need of that wisdom soon.

He sheathed the blade and fixed it on his side. His tongue felt heavy as he accepted. "I will carry it with honor."

* * *

Sung glanced over the knife again, seeming to string together a history. "Iroh, you're not serious. If this is what I believe it is, you _can't_ be serious."

He grinned in reply. "From an Earth Kingdom general to a General Iroh. From an Iroh back to an Earth Kingdom general; I think it's pretty fitting."

His counterpart made a number of stutters, perhaps trying to form a sentence. "Iroh, correct me if I'm wrong, but I fail to see how this could belong to the Earth Kingdom anymore than the Air Temples to the Water Tribe."

"It's just a token, Sung, a small gift to make up for the mountain of wrongs the Fire Nation has done. It's more symbolic than anything, really."

"A token! Let me guess, this blade has been in the possession of not only the first Iroh, but Lord Zuko himself? Your mother, Firelord Izumi? Perhaps even Lady Ursa and that damned Ozai and Azula have held it before!"

"The last three, I can't confirm." Iroh smiled wryly. He'd misjudged how much distress the offer would cause.

"By the spirits, Iroh! There is so much royal air on this blade it might as well be plated in gold!" He raised a hand to his temple, as if checking for a fever, then slid the knife firmly back on Iroh's side of the table. "I can not accept it."

"Hear me out, general." He tried to bring a little more seriousness into his voice, but the best he could do was restrain from laughing. "The very day my mother gave me this knife, I knew that I couldn't keep it."

Sung wrinkled his nose. "And you expect someone like me to? Bah, Iroh, your head is full of air."

"Look, as much royalty and honor this blade has seen, no matter how many great Firelords carry this knife, Sung, it all goes back to that one day, right here, where the Earth Kingdom was forced to surrender."

He pointed again at the 'X' marked besides them.

"That's not the legacy I want to carry around. So take the damn knife, Sung. That way, if it's ever passed down again, its legacy starts _here._ "

Iroh gestured to make it evident that he meant _here_ as in that very moment, then picked up the blade and offered it once again.

Sung huffed. "You're a stubborn man, Iroh, just like your grandfather. A noble one though." He plucked up the blade and studied it. His expression softened, thoughtful and fiery as he met Iroh's eyes. "I will carry it with honor."


End file.
